


Fearless Leader

by hapakitsune



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Gen, Illnesses, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-26
Updated: 2010-09-26
Packaged: 2017-11-10 20:25:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/470329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hapakitsune/pseuds/hapakitsune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Kirk comes down with yet another illness, his crew decides that enough is enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fearless Leader

It’s about halfway through the Alpha shift when Jim starts to feel a bit faint. He sways on his feet a little and presses his hand to his forehead before sitting down heavily in the command chair. Spock shoots him a curious look. “Are you feeling all right, Captain?” he asks politely.

“Just peachy, Spock,” Kirk lies. He presses his hand to his head and breathes in deeply. “Actually, you know what? I am feeling a bit under the weather. I’m going to go see Bones.” He gets up, trying not to show that the room looks a bit like it’s spinning, takes a step forward, and passes out.

 

 

“I feel like you’re always sick,” Leonard is grumbling as Jim wakes up. “You’re in here practically every other week.”

Jim says in a slightly croaky voice, “It’s not like I do it on purpose.” He sneezes violently and wrinkles his nose in disgust. “I didn’t ask to have a shitty immune system.”

“Don’t forget your hyperactive allergies.” Leonard comes over to Jim’s side and lays a perfunctory hand on Jim’s forehead before running his tricorder over Jim’s body. “It looks like you have Andorian flu.”

“What does that mean?” Jim asks nervously, not reassured by the worry in Leonard’s voice.

“It means you’re going to be in here for a while.” Leonard whips out a hypospray and Jim instinctively flinches back. Leonard rolls his eyes. “Buck up, you big wuss,” he says in an exasperated voice, and then he jams the hypospray into Jim’s neck.

“I hate you,” Jim says sincerely, his neck hurting.

“Uh, and I relieve you of duty,” Leonard adds with a slightly sadistic grin. “No way are you captaining this ship with a thirty-nine degree fever. You’ll get everyone else sick and ruin our very first exploratory voyage.”

Jim tries to glare at Leonard, but then he falls asleep, so it probably doesn’t have the desired effect.

 

 

When Jim swims back to consciousness, Spock is sitting on the chair next to Jim’s bed, his PADD sitting on his lap.

“I am curious, captain,” Spock says in lieu of a greeting, “why you did not receive the Andorian flu vaccine like most members of Starfleet?”

Jim blinks at him and then says, “It’s Jim, Spock. You’re captain right now and I’m off duty.”

Spock inclines his head in acknowledgement. “Jim. My question still stands.”

Shrugging doesn’t really work while lying down, so Jim sit upright as he explains, “There’s probably something in the vaccine that I’m allergic to.”

Spock inclines his head again. “I see.” He looks down at his PADD. “I have been doing some research on Andorian flu. You seem to have a mild case, but it is still very dangerous. You must follow Dr. McCoy’s orders to the letter. And that is an order,” he adds when Jim makes a face.

“This is why people like me more than you,” he tells Spock. “You’re a real ball-buster.”

Spock doesn’t quite smile, but Jim can tell that he’s not displeased by this description. “I think we need to work on your immune system, Jim. You cannot be getting sick this often if you are to captain this ship.”

“Thank you for your advice, Captain Spock,” Jim says dryly.

Leonard comes in a moment later and says, “Okay, Jim, time for your next round of antivirals,” and Spock rises gracefully to his feet.

“I believe that is my cue to leave.” He nods to Jim. “I hope you get well soon, Captain. I find myself missing the way the Enterprise functioned under your command.”

He leaves and Leonard stares at Jim in shock. “That was practically a proposal of marriage, coming from Spock,” he remarks, coming towards Jim with a hypospray. “What did you do?”

“Would you believe nothing at all?” Jim asks hopelessly.

“Nope,” says Leonard, and he jams the hypospray into Jim’s neck.

 

 

Sulu is the next to drop by. He is carrying one of his plants and he sets it neatly next to his bed. “I checked, and you’re not allergic to these,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty shitty,” Jim admits in a nasal voice. “What’s up with you?”

“I think I am in love,” Sulu says morosely, sitting down in the chair next to Jim’s bed. “It sucks, man. I miss the days at the Academy when I could have strings free sex all the time. Well,” he amends, “not all the time, but usually at least twice a month. Now it’s practically never.”

“That’s sad,” Jim says sympathetically. “If it makes you feel better, I definitely haven’t had sex in, like, six weeks.”

“Wow,” Sulu says, eyes wide.

“I know.” Jim cocks his head to the side and looks at Sulu curiously. “So who is it that has stolen your heart?”

Sulu looks embarrassed suddenly. “Um,” he says.

“Out with it!” Jim orders, even though he doesn’t have any authority. “Tell me. I need gossip to sustain me through Bones’s dubious bedside care.”

“I heard that!” Leonard shouts from across the infirmary.

Sulu leans forward and lowers his voice to say, “It’s Chekov, Captain. He’s just – he’s so incredible. And have you _seen_ his legs?”

“I’ve been trying not to look,” Jim says honestly, because he finds it hard to imagine having sex with anyone who is technically his inferior. It seems skeezy, even for him.

“Oh,” Sulu says. “Let me assure you, they are magnificent. And he is simply friends with me, always. It’s beginning to get depressing.” He presses his hands to his eyes and rubs furiously. Jim sincerely hopes he isn’t crying. “I’m going to sprain something jerking off.”

“I think you need to get laid,” Jim says sincerely. “And possibly get some balls and actually make a move. Does that sound doable?”

Sulu shrugs gloomily and gets up to leave. “I guess I could go chat up one of the new ensigns,” he says sadly.

“That’s the spirit!” Jim calls after his retreating figure. “Sad bastard,” he tells the plant sitting unobtrusively by his side.

 

 

Uhura comes by with some food from the mess, which is unusually kind of her. Jim points out as much and she smacks the back of his head.

“If you don’t want it,” she says threateningly, waving the plate around. Jim makes grabby hands at it.

“I’m sorry!” he cries. “I didn’t mean to make you mad!”

She smiles, pleased, and passes it over. It’s just replicated spaghetti marinara, but it tastes like fucking ambrosia after the soup Bones has been force-feeding him for days. Uhura sits primly by the side of his bed and watches him eat with a frankly alarming glint in her eye. When he’s finished, she takes the plate and sets it aside.

“Kirk,” she says. “I have to tell you something. You cannot get sick anymore.”

“Your boyfriend said as much,” Jim remarks casually, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. Uhura makes a face and hands him a cloth napkin. “Why, what’s up?”

“I haven’t had sex since you’ve gotten ill,” Uhura says bluntly. “Spock is too busy for even the quickest of sexual activities and frankly, it’s driving me crazy.”

Jim’s mind promptly explodes with mental images and he resists the urge to make a lewd remark. “Oh,” he says blankly, not sure how to respond. “I’m very sorry for you.”

“I understand you’ve been celibate for some time,” she continues breezily, “and while it galls me that you are clearly better able to deal with sexual deprivation than I am, I _really_ want to have sex. So don’t get sick again.” With that, she snatches the plate and stalks out of the infirmary, her ponytail swinging back and forth. Jim falls back against the pillows, confused and a little turned on.

 

 

Chekov swings in after Uhura leaves, looking a little rumpled. “Keptain,” he says in a loud whisper. “I have brought you some entertainment.” He produces a silver flask from the pocket of his off-duty trousers and passes it over.

Kirk opens it tentatively and is hit with the strong smell of real alcohol – not synthol. “Bless you, little one,” Jim says fervently before taking along pull. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, the vodka burning its way down his throat, and smiles. “Bones has been feeding me replicated soup,” he complains. He offers the flask back to Chekov, who waves his hands.

“No, no,” he says. “Keep it. I do not want to get sick.”

Jim looks at Chekov with a new sense of appreciation. “As soon as I’m captain again, you’re getting a promotion,” he announces.

Chekov grins and leans back, tilting his head a little. There’s a bite mark on the underside of his jaw, very red against the paleness of Chekov’s skin.

“Chekov!” Jim exclaims, delighted. “Who have you been fucking?”

Chekov goes scarlet, hand clamping to his jaw. “Дерьмо,” he says emphatically and eyes Jim worriedly. “Am I going to be in trouble?”

“I’m off-duty,” Jim reminds him.”Now tell me, I’m dying of boredom in here. Was it Sulu?”

Chekov nearly chokes and sputters, “Hikaru? He is much too old!” Jim reflects gloomily that Sulu had just turned twenty-three. “No, it was that pretty new ensign with the golden hair.”

Jim thinks hard and remembers the boy in question – maybe eighteen or nineteen, with very green eyes and blond hair. His name is – “Ensign Preston?” Jim asks, impressed. He knows that several of the ensigns – and a few of the younger officers, including Gaila – had bets on who would land Preston first. “Very nice, Chekov.”

Chekov relaxes and smirks sneakily. “Yes, it is wery good. _He_ is wery good.” He leans back in his seat and stretches his legs out in front of him, the little Lolita.

“My crew is always getting more than me,” Jim says gloomily. “I’m the captain, that alone should make people fall at my feet.”

“But you are _old_ , Kork,” Chekov says, confusedly.

“I can change my mind about that promotion,” Jim reminds him, frowning.

“Of course,” Chekov says dismissively. “I must go, keptain. Ensign Preston wanted to have the sex again before he went on duty.”

He glides out of the ward serenely, smugness billowing out from him like a cloak. Jim makes a face at his back.

 

 

Scotty is the last to visit, just as Jim is getting ready to get back on duty. “Captain!” he cries as he comes in, slapping Jim on the back so hard it feels like he broke something. “Good to see you up and about. I wanted to ask you some questions about the requisitions forms –”

“No,” Jim says without even thinking about it, because Scotty’s requests generally tend to be outlandish or dangerous. Or both.

Scotty slumps. “Captain, I thought you’d be more fun than Commander Spock.”

Jim eyes him. “That is a low blow, Mr. Scott,” he remarks, pressing a hand to his chest like he’s been wounded. “How could you say such a hurtful thing?”

“So you’ll say yes?” The excited gleam is back in Scotty’s eye and he grabs Jim’s arm. “I’ll show you, it’ll really make the old girl the best ship in the Fleet.”

“I’m making no promises,” Jim warns him, but he _is_ curious to see what Scotty’s got up his sleeve. He passes Leonard on his way out and Jim reaches out to squeeze Leonard’s arm in farewell.

Leonard points at Jim accusingly. “I better not see you back in here for at least two months,” he calls after them.

“Come on, Captain,” Scotty’s saying, “just because it’s never been tested successfully doesn’t mean it will _necessarily_ explode the ship.”

When Jim finally makes it to the bridge, Spock gracefully vacates the captain chair and actually shakes Jim’s hand. “Good to have you back, Captain,” he says stiffly, but it’s practically a hug and a grope coming from Spock. Uhura gives Jim a rare approving glance and Chekov smiles brightly.

“It’s good to be back,” Jim says, sinking into the captain’s chair with great relief. “Where to next, Mr. Sulu?”


End file.
